“Do not attempt to examine your ear yourself.”
Gideon did not respond.
The doctor pulled on his gloves.
“And do not let anyone else do it either.”
Then he left.
Rosalie watched the carriage disappear beyond the trees.
When she turned around, Gideon was standing beside the table, staring at his closed notebook.
She approached him carefully.
Why is that doctor afraid of me asking questions? she wrote.
Gideon read the sentence.
His face was pale.
For the first time, Rosalie saw something in his eyes that frightened her more than his pain.
He was afraid.
Not of the doctor.
Of what the doctor might know.
The seventh night brought a storm.
Wind battered the cabin, and snow gathered against the windows. Rosalie prepared a thick stew while Gideon worked near the fireplace, repairing a leather strap for one of the horses.
They ate quietly.
Halfway through the meal, Gideon dropped his spoon.
